Here now, within the span of a few months, are two
films that tackle the same, typically ignored subject of an American teenage
girlís coming of age post-high school. The films feature excellent,
recognizable, ensemble casts, but both works clearly belong to their respective
stars. First up, Terry Zwigoffís Ghost World, based on the cult comic
book by Daniel Clowes, features Thora Birch as Enid, a sarcastic social outcast
that stumbles into a relationship with a middle-aged man. Secondly, Christine
Lahtiís My First Mister, which also feels as if were based on Clowes'
comic book, features Leelee Sobieski as Jennifer, a sarcastic social outcast who
stumbles into a relationship with a middle-aged man. The films each cover
several of the same elements of this stage in life. We see high school
graduation (a non-event in both films), a refusal to go to college, several
attempts to secure employment, and the search for a first apartment. If they
werenít released concurrently, one might suspect the one of the authors of
plagiarism.

Still, the films manage to work somewhat differently.
Ghost World, the better of the two movies, maintains a sense of gravity
since although weíre shown plenty of Enidís antisocial behavior, the film
doesnít exactly endorse it. It doesnít much endorse anything, but rather
seems content to sit in the corner and call attention to everyoneís faults. My
First Mister is a much more forgiving, sweeter film. Its protagonistís
observations are meant to be astute and cute. Unlike Ghost World, which
remains a bit detached from Enidís deconstruction of everything (though it
celebrates her when she is right), Mister jumps right into Jenniferís
point of view. She looks at the world through a pair of backward binoculars that
distort everything, and the film literally gives us her point of view. When she
imagines a characterís back end is fat, some computer graphics illustrate for
us. This is much less deft than Ghost World, which manages to convey
Enidís worldview without stooping to such flattery of its lead. Still, both
films have a first half that is extremely funny. Both characters possess a
rapier wit, and lash out with reckless abandon, and both films wisely recognize
their cynicism as a defense mechanism.

What really separates the two films in terms of
quality are their resolutions. Ghost World becomes profoundly sad when
itís made apparent to the audience, though not entirely to Enid, that her
alienation will ultimately place her in the same state as Seymour (Steve Buscemi),
the object of her affections. The pair shares a fondness of old records. Itís
an attempt to find a genuine, noncommercial authentic emotion that doesnít
seem to exist in the mass-produced society of today. When Enid comments that she
admires Seymourís collection, he remarks that he would trade all of his cool
stuff away for normalcy. The film is not content to allow the critics of society
off easily. At the filmís end, Enid is changed by her experiences, but the
change is ambiguous. She is moving toward something different, but her future is
still quite uncertain. My First Mister has little of the same ambiguity
in its ending. Just over halfway through the film, the storyís central
element, a relationship between Jennifer and her store manager (Albert Brooks),
is jettisoned as things shift toward the maudlin. The genuine sweetness that the
gave the film a distinctiveness turns against the film. The momentum that the
film had is not lost entirely, but the filmís shift toward the dramatic
doesnít work. Sobieskiís performance, which seemed brilliant and touching in
the filmís comedic first half, isnít quite focused enough to really sell
some of the dramatic moments later on. Thing fumble most, however, when the film
begins handing out a catharsis to each member of the entire cast. The film grows
so focused on giving every single person a happy ending that it loses focus
about itís central theme. Still, the failures of My First Mister are
outweighed by its success, even if it isnít quite as resonate as Ghost
World. Both films are capably directed and well acted. Both are well worth
seeing.